Bunions & Flagons 2: The Sequel
by Speshbun
Summary: Grog Strongjaw is a simple goliath possessing a need for merely three things: ale, lady favors- oh, also ale. However, after defeating Vecna and confronted with the loss of a close friend, things are no longer so simple. As the brains of VM, Grog concocts a plan. This plan will bring his friends back together, if only for an evening, and maybe, just maybe, help him heal.
1. Prologue

_AN: Hello, fellow fans of Critical Role! Thank you for taking the time to read this little meandering, exploratory... Thing. I'm not sure what I'm to do with this story as I am simply discovery writing it until it comes to a natural conclusion. I have an idea of where the story will go, and I have a schedule to work on it reliably every day, so expect weekly (hopefully) updates._  
 _With this story I aim to explore the idea of healing through roleplaying, as my experience as a dungeon master and player in our group for over 3 years has helped me move past trauma, grow more as a person, and become more understanding, daring, confident, and empathetic.  
_ _My role is more the dungeon master. How about yours? Let me know! And now, without further ado._

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" Grog's voice echoed in the void beyond consciousness. "Are you afraid?"

"I'm going to visit my mother. And I'll see all you again."

Weightlessness. The words drifted around and through the goliath like a dull cold as the world became utterly still.

The feeling of falling quickly shunted the memory into a blur of motion. And with the sound of rushing wind, it all came to an abrupt stop.

Grog Strongjaw yelped in surprise as he shot up from his bed- and slammed his forehead directly into the wooden frame of the bunk atop his. Another figure above cried out, the voice a much higher pitch than his own, as they were flung from the top bunk onto the stone floor. Grog turned to face the bundle of blankets and limbs that fell from the top bunk, clearing his eyes to get a better look.

"Grog!" Scanlan's voice came as he threw the sheets off of his head. A pair of tanned, muscular legs stuck out past either side of his head as Pike lifted the other side off of her revealing her scarred, but fair face, more than a little red.

"The dream again?" Pike said breathlessly as she brushed her hair from her face revealing eyes alight with worry.

Grog looked away, avoiding Pike's disarming gaze. "Hey, nobody told me we were having a _slumber party_. The burly goliath said in his trademark baritone, forcing a smile as pieces of wood fell into his beard. Pike was supposed to be in the lady's wing of the castle, after all.

Pike pursed her lips. Did she see through him? See the real fear that lingered behind his grogginess? It wasn't like the goliath barbarian ever had a knack for deception.

The door creaked open, causing Grog and the tangled Pike and Scanlan to turn to it. Percival and Vex'ahlia stepped inside, pistol and bow drawn.

"What happened!?" Both of them shouted, alert eyes darting to all possible points of entry. Vex caught on first, shoulders lowering as she regarded the two gnomes with a smile.

"Ow." Grog grunted as he pulled a huge splinter from his eyebrow.

Scanlan hastily pulled himself from the blankets and forced a wide smile. At that moment Grog realized that Scanlan's naked rear looked almost exactly like two sweet buns baked in the same tin. But, still the words lingered, the words he had heard in his dreams every night for the last two weeks. The words he spoke yet knew not why.

 _Are you afraid?_

* * *

It was the third of Brussendar and it was shaping up to be a scorcher. The morning sun that filtered through Whitestone Castle's elegant stained glass windows warmed the sweat from Grog Strongjaw's skin in an attempt to wipe away last night's nightmare. The sun framed by blue sky always reminded him of Pike, his bastion of positivity, of inspiration, of hope and protection. Up until a few weeks ago, Grog had always considered the diminutive gnome utterly infallible, but it turned out even the champion of the Everlight can have family drama what with her crazy Uncle Ogden and all.

The goliath was beginning to realize that people could never fit into the simple molds our minds might place them in. After all, as the champion of joy and Kord's strength that he so often considered himself, he certainly felt like a storm cloud had been hovering over him the last month- and it wasn't the good kind of storm cloud that would shoot lightning and make bad guys do the herky-jerky.

"Grog!" Keyleth exclaimed.

"Yeh-wot?"

The group, his party, Vox Machina surrounded the solitary goliath at the banquet table in the dining room of Whitestone Castle, their eyes fixed on him in bewilderment. Sun shone brightly through the windows, illuminating the once-dreary fortress with summer's light.

"Have you listened to anything I've been saying?" The druidess asked.

"No. Honestly I was just thinking about how cool it is when you can make a storm and then shoot lightning like " _krakoom! Woosh! KAPO_ -"

"Grog." Pike's voice was firm and authoritative, and it immediately made the tall warrior straighten up in his creaking wooden seat.

"Roight, sorry. I'll listen up. I'm just so hungry." He pouted. "Grog-y needs his break-y."

His friends regarded him with skepticism, and most of them looked to Pike for guidance on what to do next like nervous children looking to their mother in an unfamiliar place.

"That's the third time you've either spaced out or changed the subject when we've tried to talk to you about Va-"

"Champions! Breakfast is served." A Whitestone master servant proclaimed as other well-dressed attendants spread a banquet of silver platters and goblets about the wide but Grog groaned at the interruption, putting their palms to their foreheads as Vox Machina returned to their seats. Cassandra had taken her breakfast in her study as she had just received a good deal of research notes from the good lady Allura just the evening before. That's what Grog told them, though the Goliath knew the truth.

"Thank you, dear Abraham." Percival smiled as he assisted setting down the food and drink, much to the servant's surprise. "Grog, you're staring."

"I- er- was doing nothing of the sort!" Grog retorted, not realizing he was so deep in contem… Contempluh- so deep in _thought_.

The food looked incredible, but the chef had expressed dismay at having to cook a meal for the realm's champions with such little time to prepare. It wasn't like many of them had had much time to prepare since Grog had called this emergency meeting, drawing the recently victorious and spread-out Vox Machina from all over Tal'dorei and beyond. It wasn't yet that Grog had revealed to them the reason for the sudden meeting.

 _But reveal I shall._

However, if there was one thing that could improve a goliath's mood (or get him to loosen up), it was good food and good ale. Tankards of amber ale filled the white-clothed space around Grog's towering plate of food, and for the moment Grog wished that plate could protect him from the conversation he was steeling himself for. Thankfully it would be after tonight's festivities. He'd need his faculties undivided for this one.

Percival smiled at his wife, who, still glaring narrow-eyed at Grog, impaled a forkful of food on her plate before taking a bite.

The heir to the De Rolo family sighed as he tucked in a handkerchief to his collar. "Grog, would you please just tell us why you called us here. Not that I'm complaining being around my favorite people in the world, it was just-" He said before he was cut off by his raven-haired wife.

"We were in the middle of our honeymoon."

Oh, that was right. Vex and Percy were traveling to celebrate their marriage- a concept alien to one who grew up in a goliath herd. Still, Grog knew they had a long list of places they wanted to visit, so he hoped he hadn't caught them someplace inconvenient like Marquet

"We had to cancel our inn reservations upon receiving a message of ' _upmost_ ' importance." Vex continued. "Do you know you have to book reservations at the _Jewel of Marquet_ month in advance?"

A pregnant pause took over the room.

Grog groaned inwardly, suddenly riddled with guilt, and he wilted like a dried up treant under Vex's barrage.

"Don't you mean ' _utmost_?'" Keyleth asked.

"No. I don't."

"Sorry." Grog's mouth was half full with meat salad as he spoke. "I did my own spell-checking."

Vex's jaw dropped. "That's not what I-" She sighed, pulling her hair out of her face. "Grog darling, I'm very proud of your progress, but you can't just expect everyone to drop what they're doing and travel across Exandria at your beck and call. Now please just tell us why everyone is here."


	2. Chapter 1

"You have got to be kidding me." Vex'ahlia blinked, dumbfounded by the sight in front of her.

The Journey's End was a sizable tavern, and one well known and traveled by Vox Machina during their time in Whitestone. However, none had ever seen it quite like this. It was largely empty save for a large, circular table in the center of the room that was full of bowls of nuts and flagons undoubtedly full of ale. On the other side of the room was Cassandra de Rolo and J.B. Trickfoot standing beneath a long banner that read "Welcome Back, Heroes!" hastily scrawled in paint.

Cassandra blew a party horn prompting J.B. to clap enthusiastically. The clapping lasted a few seconds too long as the rest of the party simply stood baffled in the doorway until it petered out.

Vex took a step forward, half-elven eyes taking in the subtler details.

The woman found herself being extra careful lately, and it was due not only to her first brush with death, but now that she was married and recently without a brother, she wanted to stay safe for the few still alive who loved her.

Her carefulness sometimes bordered on paranoia, but she never considered it a negative trait. It was hereditary, something stronger in Vax'ildan that she would always remember about him. Lately, remembering him was difficult. Gut-wrenchingly difficult. It was one of the reasons she wanted to get away from Whitestone for a while.

It was remembering him that made seeing the Bunions & Flagons logo on that damned screen so absolutely infuriating. Dice trays and pieces of paper were spaced neatly and evenly apart all across the edges of the table, and a large cloth hid something in the center.

"Grog-" Vex'ahlia started, her voice trembling before she was cut off by a firm hand around her wrist.

She looked expecting to see Percival holding her back, but was surprised (especially considering the strength) to see Scanlan holding her.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, buddy!" Scanlan smiled, pulling the two of them closer, which encouraged the rest of them to enter and gaze around the room replete with multicolored streamers and ribbons of all shapes and sizes.

Vex'ahlia wasn't sure whether to be astounded or appalled at the amount of work that was put into this. It was like looking at a macaroni portrait just for you, except that every bit of glitter and glue in the house had been dumped on the page and presented with a 'tada!'

"Indeed I have, Ser Shorthalt." Grog was smiling, even blushing at the response. His voice was bouncy and jovial and his positivity infectious. Despite her flash of anger, Vex'ahlia began to relax, and, surrounded by her closest friends with no threat of imminent death, she even found herself smiling.  
"Alright, everyone, take your seats for I have prepared for you another rip-roarin' adventure in the realm of Xanderia! Please hold your praise until- actually don't hold your praise. Lay it on."

Cassandra and J.B. shared a glance and rolled their eyes before they both gathered at the table with the rest of them. "My apologies about the honeymoon, dear brother." Cass said as she tied off a balloon and let it bounce against the ceiling, stone-faced.

"Yeah." Came a slightly eerie voice from Cassandra's left. The youngest of the Trickfoots and Pike's cousin, J.B., pulled herself up to sit on a bar stool. "I've learned when Grog asks for your help he isn't taking 'no' for an answer." She said, pushing her reading glasses further up her nose, an oversized book in her other hand.

The party, brought together again in good spirits and having not seen each other for weeks quickly began falling into their old ways both literally and figuratively. There was much conversation and questions about Scanlan and Pike, how the two of them have been enjoying the dating life and each other and comments of how J.B. and Cassandra helped set this all up- but wouldn't be playing. Percival remarked how fascinating it was to see Scanlan and Pike, two creatures with a collective life more than twice his and Vex'ahlia's, faun and bicker like schoolchildren. But love can make fools of even the most hardened champions, it seemed. Really love had its work cut out for it if making Scanlan a fool was its goal.

Vex'ahlia however, did not participate much in conversation. It wasn't because she didn't want to catch up with everyone, she had been meaning to do just that, but she preferred listening, smiling and nodding, and letting everyone carry on with their happy, peaceful lives.

While she remained miserable.

An icy pit began in the woman's stomach, a feeling not unlike the one she felt after learning of her mother's fate after a sudden dragon attack.  
Vex'ahlia had two dragons now, and the worst part? They weren't foes that she could defeat with a bow and some arrows. One was long dead and the other a god.

The fucking Raven Queen.

A string of memories and feelings, like a bore always left dangling near the surface, threatened to puncture her fragile facade of the Lady of Whitestone, baroness, dauntless and unruffled.

"Dear one."

"Huh?" She replied, blinking to see Percival's face.

"We're starting soon." Percival whispered to her, hands clasping hers. Those haunted, blue eyes locked onto her, gazing into her soul. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're cold."

"I'm fine. As fine as a sister can be after losing her twin brother."

The laughter and conversation died.

Shit. Vex'hlia thought to herself. Come on, darling, you can do this. For five minutes you can do this. She pulled her hands back to her lap and tried to calm her breathing the same way her father's archery teacher told her. Her knuckles were bone-white despite her best efforts.

She could see Keyleth looking at her. In silence, Keyleth sat across the table, but in her eyes she could see that there was no one closer to her in moments like this than the Ashari druidess who she once might have called sister. Her eyes told her that Keyleth understood how she felt, yet never could, not fully, at least. If only there was more time. She just needed more time.

"Anyways." Grog coughed. "You can now-" His voice wavered, every syllable uttered in an odd tone. Was Grog getting emotional? "Ahem. You can now look at your character sheets! Gaze upon them. See how I have leveled all of you up to level…"

He squinted down at the sheet.

"Ten!"

Scanland laughed. "'Jimbo's Ensorcelled Fingers?' What the hell does this do?" He held a drink in one hand while the other held crimson cards with gold trim. "Arcane Spells" the cards said.

"I also took the liberty of picking your spells and advances." Grog added, finger pointed in the air.

"Aw man!" Keyleth groaned, distracted at least momentarily by the game, her previous expression smoothed away.

"I wanted to split-class into warblade so I could get 'fire of wrath' at level one."

Everyone but Pike stared at her for a moment.

"I may have played a few times with the kids in Zephrah." Keyleth added to a chorus of chuckles. "I mean I was teaching them how to play."

"Nice save." Scanlan added.

The ranger envied Keyleth sometimes for how fanciful and devil-may-care she was. Immediately the image of a transforming goldfish came to mind. Perhaps she found a measure of escape in these childish games. The gods knew that both of them could use some of that.

Meanwhile, Pike Trickfoot's pensive gaze was fixed on the paper in front of her. She was barely able to see over the table as, unlike Scanlan, she did not want to use an 'extender' (as smallfolk called it) to allow her to sit taller.

"Grog, Cassandra, J.B." The gnome cleric chimed in, clearing her throat. "I think this all looks wonderful."

Despite her size, it was impossible to miss Pike even in a crowded room. It seemed that, whatever gnomes lacked in size, they made up for with character. Pike's personality made her as easy to notice as Grog, for Melora's sake.  
Much to Vex'ahlia's apprehension, it was apparent from the tone of her voice that Pike wished to continue with the game. An uneducated eye might see an adult attempting to humor a child, but anyone understanding of Pike's nature, her genuineness and kindness, saw her true feelings.

Vex'ahlia, for the time being, would keep her feelings hidden, tucked away next to the remembered image of Emon's destruction and the sound of her mother's voice. Keep it together, Vex.

"Agreed! Definitely outdone yourselves." Scanlan said as he pulled a too-large tankard towards him on the wooden game table. "Can we get some more of these?"

The sounds of friends drinking, eating, chatting, and laughing staunched the flow of grim thoughts that crept from the cold depths of her heart. For now, she sat at the table, met her husband's gaze, and nodded.

"So, are we playing or not?"


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi, all! Sorry about the very delayed chapter. I hope to get a little bit more on track, and I still am very inspired to continue this story, but my schedule does not always permit time to work on writing while also balancing work and other hobbies. Sorry it is short, but the following chapters will definitely have more meat to it once we really get into the game! What do you think of Grog's idea so far? Let me know!_

* * *

Scanlan Shorthalt was nervous. It wasn't a feeling he had often, and it definitely wasn't one he felt when surrounded by his friends. But for them Scanlan would play along undaunted until it came time to drop the act.

The conversation he imagined he would have with Grog was one he intended on having in due time when the team had some real time to grieve.

Even remembering it now felt like a spike of ice in his heart. So why in the nine hells were they here _now_ when the pain was fresher than Dr. Dranzel's rhymes?

Not even that zinger could placate Scan's anxiety which threatened to bubble over and break his cheerful mask. _And here of all places._ The gnome remembered sharing drinks with that gods-damned fool, Vax, at the bar only a month ago. In fact he could even remember the conversation. Vax listened for hours that night as Scanlan described what he wrote in his letter to Pike, how he felt about her, how excited and terrified he was. And the whole time Vax just _listened._

"Did you get that, Scanlan?" Grog said, turning to the bard at the table with excited puppy dog eyes.

"Sorry, Grog. Something about your inspiration, was it?"

"Ohhohoohhh yes."

The goliath leaned forward, barely obscured by the diminutive bunion master's screen, face alight with excitement.

"This game, really, is to be my magnum opus. My masterpiece for which I will be remembered by for generations!"

Keyleth and Percy giggled, and Pike let out a small sigh. Scanlan found himself fawning at the sight of Pike so proud in her friend.

 _Gods willing, could she be any more sweet?_

Surprisingly, Vex grinned. Hopefully whatever dark cloud that hung over her earlier had passed.

"Well, y'see." Grog continued. "I had the idea for this one on the can. The water closet. You feel me?"

"Grog." Percy moaned.

"Okay but hear me out! I get a lot of ideas, and they're all good, but you always get the best ideas on the John, and the last few weeks I've been working through a batch of bad oysters, so I've had plenty of time to-"

"I think-" Scanlan interjected. "We get the picture, Grog." To which Pike smirked and gave him a nod.

"Roight, so- this is going to be a truly visceral experience. I haven't edited much from my original 'brain-spiration' so everyone prepare yourselves for some no-holds-barred Strongjaw storytellin'." Grog proclaimed sitting back in his chair obviously pleased with himself in that Grog way, like a cat after its just dropped a half-dead rat on your pillow.

Percy gaped. "I don't think I've ever heard you so motivated, Grog."

"Or so verbose." Keyleth added with genuine surprise.

Scanlan set his jaw, eyes dropping to the character sheet in front of him. Something seemed off here. Though the gnome couldn't place what it was, the center of his forehead (where Ioun's mark once shone) tingled. It wasn't the first time it had happened after he received the Knowing Mistress' gift and they sealed away Vecna. It was just…

It usually preceded disaster.

Grog's booming voice filled the room again. "Our journey begins…"

As he talked, the players settled into their seats and glued their eyes on the dungeon master. Scanlan however continued to look at his sheet and the ones next to his. _Percival, Keyleth, Vex'ahlia._ But he found something odd at the table. Actually Keyleth noticed it first, but Scanlan followed her wide eyes to the set of papers next to her own. A grim realization slowly washed over him, and terrible doubts he hadn't realized he had began to coalesce in his mind.

"Cassandra would you please join us?" Grog said to a round of confused looks before they welcomed the brand new player. "And everyone please take the character sheet in front of you and slide it to your left."

Papers shuffled and the confusion grew, spreading like an infection over the table. Some noticed it first, their eyes widening, sweat beading at their foreheads, while others remained oblivious, smirking, delighted.

In front of Scanlan was a character sheet that, at the top, read 'Vex'ahlia, Mistress of the Grey Hunt.' With his eyebrow raised he gave Grog a look.

Grog simply smiled a full-faced grin.

 _Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?_

"Grog…" The gnome began to ask before he was cut off by his girlfriend.

"So I'm playing Percy?" Pike wondered as she flipped to the second page of her sheet seeming lost.

"And I'm playing you." Vex replied with mirth, but her gaze was suddenly drawn to Keyleth and Cassandra's side of the table.

"What's wrong, dear?" The woman continued, smiling at Keyleth. The poor girl. Vex honestly seemed excited at the idea of playing one of her close friends, impersonating them, embarrassing them. Scanlan would have been too if he hadn't seen what was on Cassandra's sheet. By now everyone was turning to look at them, and as more attention gathered on the two women looking straight down at their papers, the deeper the pit in Scanlan's stomach got.

"I got Scanlan." Keyleth said in a daze. "And Cassandra got-"

"Vax'ildan." Cassandra finished, deadpan.

All eyes turned to her, before turning to Grog.

 _Grog, what have you done?_


End file.
